A Journal of Movement
Little Cottonwood Canyon. Highway 210. Alta.
The road climbs slowly at first, to a small bench above the valley floor. For a moment the trees and houses drop away and you can turn and soak in the sea of humanity. More often than not a dark haze obscures your view, the result of the transportation and industry of some 2.2 million people inhabiting the valley. Ahead, the road turns into the canyon, disappearing between the gleaming granite walls.
I haven’t been cycling in months. Although this might come as some sort of sad irony in light of this blog being born from bicycle-powered adventure, I’m not really that broken up about it. Sure, I miss the bike, and those long warm rides in the mountains, but I miss it like I miss asparagus or basil, those ephemeral staples of spring and summer that might be short lived, but they have a time, and will be back next season. For now I’m loving the winter, the numbing cold, the short days parenthesized by extended darkness, the styrofoam crunch of snow under my skis, and the unparalleled beauty of the play of light on mountains dressed in white. I’m embracing the winter for what it is: now. Continue reading “A Case for Place”